in the moonlight. Three--four--five of them he counted. The men
he saw were those he expected, and he lowered his rifle at once.

"Hello, Cuffs! Purdy! That you, Tom? Well, you're too late."

"Too late," echoed little Purdy.

"Yep. Didn't get here in time myself to see who any of them were except
the last. It was right dark, and they were most through before I reached
here."

"But you knew one," Purdy suggested.

Healy looked at him and nodded. "There were four of them. I crept
forward on top of that flat rock just as the last showed up. He was
ridin' a hawss with four white stockings."

"A roan, mebbe," Tom put in quickly.

"You've said it, Tom--a roan, and it looked to me like it was wounded.
There was blood all over the left flank."

"O' course Keller was riding it," Purdy ventured.

"Rung the bell at the first shot," Healy answered grimly.

"The son of a gun!"

"How long ago was it, Brill?" asked another.

"Must a-been two hours, anyhow."

"No use us following them now, then."

"No use. They've gone to cover."

They turned their horses and took the back trail. The cow ponies
scrambled down rocky slopes like cats, and up steep inclines with the
agility of mountain goats. The men rode in single file, and conversation
was limited to disjointed fragments jerked out now and again. After an
hour's rough going they reached the foothills, where they could ride two
abreast. As they drew nearer to the ranch country, now one and now
another turned off with a shout of farewell.

Healy accepted Purdy's invitation, and dismounted with him at the
Fiddleback. Already the first glimmering of dawn flickered faintly from
the serrated range. The men unsaddled, watered, fed, and then walked
stiffly to the house. Within five minutes both of them lay like logs,
dead to the world, until Bess Purdy called them for breakfast, long
after the rest of the family had eaten.

"What devilment you been leading paw into, Brill?" demanded Bess
promptly when he appeared in the doorway. "Dan says it was close to
three when you got home."

She flung her challenge at the young man with a flash of smiling teeth.
Bess was seventeen, a romp, very pretty, and hail-fellow-well-met with
every range rider in a radius of thirty miles.

"We been looking for a beau for you, Bess," Healy immediately explained.

Miss Purdy tossed her head. "I can find one for myself, Brill Healy,
and I don't have to stay out till three to get him, either."